


all the times dante cried for vergil.

by cybernekokaito



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Family, Family Issues, Sibling Bonding, probably, will add tags as i go?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-13 18:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18474391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybernekokaito/pseuds/cybernekokaito
Summary: in his youth, dante was a crybaby. vergil never really cried at all. to make up for this, dante made sure to cry for vergil when the older twin wouldn't, and vergil made sure the younger twin knew how stupid he was for doing it. each chapter will be a new topic of why dante used to cry for vergil.





	1. hair

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's been a while. have some wholesome spardas :')
> 
> sorry it's not very long... i'll try to do better next time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which vergil doesn't cry over a different hairstyle.

The first time Dante ever cried for Vergil was when he decided to wear his hair differently. Someone had mistaken them for one another while out and about on the town’s playground, and it weighed heavily on Vergil. He certainly did  _ not _ want to be mistaken for Dante, and he had figured at the time that Dante would feel the same in reverse. Vergil had then since watched his father very, very carefully when he would fix himself up first thing in the morning. Sparda was very meticulous about most things he did, Vergil noted, and his hair was no different.

Sparda made it seem so  _ simple _ whenever he did it, though it took Vergil a few tries to get his hair to stay back in just the right way, without any stray hairs sticking out and making him look foolish. Once he finally mastered it, though, he was quite proud of himself, and he immediately went to show Eva.

“Look, Mother!” Vergil had said with a smile. “My hair looks just like Father’s now, doesn’t it?”

It didn’t, but Eva nodded and smiled anyway. “Oh, yes, Vergil. You’re his spitting image. Why, I almost mistook you for him!” And then she had reached down to ruffle his hair, which he objected to with a series of fussy noises. Eva laughed, then gasped, as though she had thought of something brilliant. “Oh, I know. Why don’t you go show your brother? Surely, you’ll fool him!”

Vergil had thought this was a brilliant idea. Without a second thought, he bolted off to find Dante. Eventually, he did — the younger son of Sparda was lounging in a tree he had climbed, likely effortlessly. He looked about ready to take a nap when Vergil found him, head lolled to the side and arms hanging limply.

Vergil stared up at him, eyebrows knitting together. “Are you dead, Brother? Maybe I came at a bad time.”

Dante jolted awake, nearly falling off of the tree. He tumbled to the side, rolling off of the branch. He was able to catch himself, much like a monkey swinging from tree to tree, and hold himself up with the branch. He dangled there, glaring down at Vergil. “Hey, you big idiot! I was—”

Dante cut off immediately when he actually really  _ looked _ at Vergil. Vergil had assumed he was stunned to silence at how much like their father he looked. He opened his mouth to speak, but out came a sob. Bewildered, Vergil blinked rapidly. The sob was not his own, but rather Dante’s. The younger released the branch and fell to the grass, landing on his feet like a cat. Immediately after, he crumpled to his knees and began to cry.

Vergil was dumbstruck —  _ speechless _ , even. What had he done to cause his brother to cry like that? Carefully, he knelt down next to him, giving him a hard glare. “What stupid thing are you crying about now, little brother?”

“ _ Stupid? _ ” Dante sobbed in disbelief. He stared at his twin with big, tearful eyes full of a bewildering betrayal that left Vergil completely dumbfounded. Vergil’s silence only made Dante cry more as he pressed his palms to his eyes, chest heaving with sobs and hiccups.

The sound greatly irritated Vergil. He pushed Dante’s shoulder, roughly, so he’d sit back on his rear. He balled his hands into fists. “Just  _ tell _ me what your issue is, Dante. I can’t read your mind, idiot.”

It didn't work. Dante began to cry even more. Vergil gave an irritated grunt before he sat down on the ground, cross-legged, and hunched his shoulders. “... Just calm down, okay? I’m tired of hearing you wail like a baby.”

Eventually, that  _ did _ work. Dante’s sobbing subsided into little sniffles, and then the tears stopped flowing altogether. The two sat in awkward silence for a bit before Dante finally spoke, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Y-You… changed your hair.”

…

“ _ That’s _ what you’re crying about?”

“Of course it is!” To punctuate his vehement statement, Dante ripped out a handful of grass and attempted to throw it at Vergil. As expected, the blades simply scattered and were carried off with the wind, thus leaving Vergil untouched. “You  _ hate _ me and that’s why you did it!”

“Wh—” Vergil recoiled, not from Dante’s attempted attack with blades of grass, but rather from the statement. “Hate you? No way. I just don’t like it when people mistake us for each other. That’s all.”

Dante sniffed. “How will everyone know we’re twins now, though?”

Vergil huffed. “I guess you’ll just have to  _ tell _ them like you always do.”

After contemplative silence, Dante nodded. Then, he grinned. “Okay, Verge. But I get to be the older twin for at least a month.”

“I’ll give you two weeks.”

“Three weeks.”

“ _ Fine _ . No one would ever believe you, anyways.”

The first time Dante ever cried for Vergil was when he decided to wear his hair differently. In actuality, he cried because he thought Vergil was leaving him behind, but less for his sake and more for Vergil’s. He knew well that Vergil wasn’t as good with other children like he was. He knew Vergil couldn’t socialize the way he did. He cried not for himself, but how  _ lonely _ Vergil would be if he really came to hate Dante. Should they lose their bond… what, then?


	2. book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which vergil doesn't cry over a ruined book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw, shit. here we go again. another short entry, but hopefully you enjoy it!

The second time Dante cried for Vergil was over a book. Dante liked to read (if he had nothing else to do), but naturally, Vergil’s love of books was unparalleled. The bastard was dramatic enough to write his name on the inside covers of all the books he wanted to make really his, so Dante never really bothered trying to steal them. Once in a blue moon, though, he would — and Vergil would stomp and yell, point rudely, and whine to Eva about how Dante stole  _ his _ book, how she could see for herself if she just opened the front page.

One time when she  _ did _ look in the front page of the book Dante held to his chest, looking smug, she found a name written above a black, scribbled in rectangle. It certainly was not Vergil’s name. In fact, Dante had scribbled out Vergil’s name entirely and written his own above it. Despite herself, Eva giggled.

“Oh… Vergil, it actually looks like this doesn’t say your name at all.”

Vergil’s face drained of all color. He twisted his mouth into a frown, balled his fists, and stomped right over to Dante. He plucked the book from his hands angrily and had a look for himself, and wouldn’t you know it, the idiot  _ did _ scrawl his own name into the book! His face went beet red.

Eva then looked to Dante, sternly, though it was clear she was trying not to laugh. “Don’t ever do that again, Dante. You shouldn’t steal things that aren’t yours.” She wagged her finger at him. “You should ask Vergil first if you want to read his books. And  _ don’t _ try to fib about it by crossing out his name. Right, Ver—?”

She turned to address the other twin, but he had already left. When she looked back to Dante, he simply shrugged.

“Can’t take a joke, I guess.” He grinned at his mother, who did not grin back. With a sigh and a slump of his shoulders, he kicked the grass and rolled his eyes. “Fine, Mom. I won’t make jokes ever again.”

Eva had simply ruffled his hair and stood up, hurrying back to the house to assist one of the maids with dinner. For all it was worth, Dante could not for the  _ life _ of him understand why Vergil had been so upset that he ran off over a stupid book. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t find tons of them at the local library. Books, after all, were just paper with words on them, bound by covers. Sure, sometimes they said cool things, but it wasn’t anything to get that worked up over, was it?

He saw Vergil at the bottom of the hill later, closer to the village they lived by. The older twin had been running after a dog — probably a stray. Dante started to laugh. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted to Vergil something taunting and antagonizing about how he “couldn’t even catch a mutt” and was “running around like an idiot.”

Vergil’s only response was to yell back, loudly: “I’ll kill you if you don’t shut up, Dante!”

That made Dante double over with laughter, so much he actually tumbled down the rest of the hill. He wiped the tears from his eyes and held his stomach, watching Vergil flounder like a fool after the stray dog. It was amusing, really, to see someone who usually tried so hard to look like the model son, to be rendered so panicked and helpless… at the hands (more like paws) of some scrappy little mutt. In a way, it was horrifically sad to watch.

Well, Dante thought that even before the dog sloshed into the river bank, and Vergil’s clumsy footsteps slowed to a stop, shoulders slumped. He looked a bit miserable and despondent. It bothered Dante so much he stood and ran over, calling out “Hey, Vergil!” over and over again. The other did nothing but stare.

Dante eventually caught up and put a hand on Vergil’s shoulder. “Hey, Vergil. Are you okay?”

Vergil didn’t look at Dante. Instead, he simply pointed to the water. Dante followed his finger with his gaze and noticed something floating just beneath the surface of the riverbank. The dog had long since left, and must have dropped that on the way out.

“Oh. Is that—?”

Dante trailed off, wading into the water and bending over to pick up the book. The pages… were soaked, and thus undoubtedly ruined. Dante looked from the book to Vergil, who simply stared blank-faced, chewing on his bottom lip. He didn’t cry, though — the boy never  _ did _ . Dante flipped to the first page on the inside of the water soaked book…

… and he immediately began to cry. Right in his immediate view, he saw the scribbled out rectangle, and Dante’s name written over it.

“V-Vergil…!” Dante sobbed, hands shaking as he held the book out in front of him. “I’m—”

“Are you really—What are you even crying for?” Vergil’s hand found its way to Dante’s shoulder, whether comfortingly or sternly he wasn’t too sure. All he knew was he was suddenly very desperate to get Dante to  _ stop the damn crocodile tears. _

Dante wailed. Vergil looked around wildly, as if he was trying to find something —  _ anything _ — that could get Dante to stop crying. When he came up with nothing, he clicked his tongue and shook Dante. “Stop it. Get a hold of yourself, Brother.”

“No! Screw you, Vergil!” Dante continued to cry, though he also began swatting Vergil on the forearm with the waterlogged book.

“You’re really annoying. Do you know that?” Vergil began pulling Dante’s hair. “Just tell me what’s the matter with you! It’s not even really  _ your _ book, even though you so rudely wrote your name in it! Are you a child?”

Dante smacked his hand against Vergil’s cheek, attempting to push him away. “We—We’re both kids, dippy!” He hiccuped, still crying, and waved the book around. “I’m crying because… because th-that mutt ruined your book!”

Vergil stopped pulling Dante’s hair, blinking. Oh, so that’s what it was. Though one would think Vergil would be the one to shed tears over the ruined book, it was Dante. Vergil simply tilted his head, eyebrows creasing.

“Well… it’s  _ your _ book now. I didn’t even write my name in it again.” Vergil muttered, looking away quickly. “Whatever. I don’t really care whose book it is if it gets you to stop crying. So it’s yours, okay?” He looked back at Dante, huffing out his cheeks. “It’s  _ your _ book and  _ I _ ruined it.”

Dante stared at him. The tears, very suddenly, did not feel like leaking anymore. He sniffed a few times, squeezing the book a bit to get the excess water out of it. Fidgeting with it, not looking at Vergil. Nodding. Smiling.

“Okay.”

“... Good.” A pause. A grin. “You owe me another one, though. I want you to bring me the complete works of Poe first thing in the morning, once the library opens, tomorrow.” Vergil plucked the book from Dante’s hands and bopped him on the head with it. “And if you don’t, then I’m going to use you for target practice for darts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and no, it's not quite over yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh But It's Not Over Yet.


End file.
